I don't cry pretty and to tell you why I was crying will add to my embarrassing display of snot-nosed, mascara running tears: someone was mean to me. She was rude, unkind, and disprespectful and those were the positives I took away from our encounter.

Let's back up a bit: I fly to Chicago frequently to visit my mother, now age 92 and suffering some form of dementia. My favorite domestic airline is Southwest; however, it flies into Midway Airport which is much farther from my mom's home than O'Hare Airport. That means I must fly either United or American Airlines. Oops, I need to back up even more:

For years and years I loved flying on American Airlines. Do you remember some years ago when American had more legroom in Coach? How cool was that? My "Loss of Love" Affair with American Airlines began when a flight attendant told me I was sitting in the wrong seat, 9D. A stockily built mega-frequent flyer was standing next to her and carried the same boarding pass as I had. The flight attendant told me that my "travel agent" must have made a mistake and that there was no way I could be carrying a boarding pass for 9D. I looked at the piece of paper---yep, it said 9D--no mistake! And, by the way I was the travel agent who issued this ticket. Trust me, there was no mistake. Not wanting to create a scene (like I did today), I meekly moved to another seat while the flight attendant counseled me to take this up with the person who booked the ticket and had obviously screwed up.

Fast forward several years--post 9/11--to an age where bus travelers are treated with more civility than some travelers are treated by the major US airlines. Who would have thought that a low-cost airline, Southwest, would rise to the top of the food chain and teach the arrogant big dogs some new tricks? Southwest has a good on-time record; their flight attendants are, for the most part, pleasant, kind and efficient. I've never lost a piece of luggage checked on Southwest---oh, and Southwest doesn't charge passengers to check luggage! Imagine that!

So, back to the present:

Fast forward to today: I was alerted on my mobile phone that my American flight would be delayed---well after the time I needed to already be at the airport to clear security, yada, yada, yada. No problem---I brought my laptop, a book, and some knitting. Easy does it, right? I went to the assigned gate and about 1/2 hour prior to boarding I noticed several people walk over to the waiting area and sit down. "Hi, are you going to Kansas City?" "No," the lady replied, "San Diego." I looked up and the sign behind the counter said, "San Diego." I rushed to a monitor and saw our flight was moved from H14 to H10. I quickly moved to the correct gate.

Because I had yet to learn that the flight from Chicago to Kansas City had been yet again delayed, I wanted to be sure I was at the correct gate because according to the first delayed take-off time, boarding was about to begin. I saw an employee of American Air

lines behind the ticket counter and I decided to double-check that I was at the appropriate gate. I waited while a curly-haired employee continued to look down avoiding eye contact. "Is this the flight to Kansas City?" Holding up a finger, while continuing to stare down at her computer screen, she then said, "I'll be right back." She went over to the jetway and looked in. I obediently waited at her desk. She returned and began to type again. "Excuse me," I said, "Is this...?" Again, the hand up telling me to wait. "I'll be with you in 20 minutes. I have a plane to load!" "I just want to know..." "The rebooking Center is by Gate H7," she said and looked down again. Actually, she made that remark to a gentleman who had been waiting 20 minutes for help. I followed him to the rebooking center--a bank of phones to American's Reservation department and automated kiosks. Realizing this wouldn't help me, I returned to the gate, looked at the list of departures and saw my answer, Gate H10! Bingo...but another delay--this time 2 more hours. I sat down, called my husband and told him I'd be even later than I thought. I then described the incident I've dubbed Barbara Meets the Ice Agent, said our usual mushy private stuff, and hung up. I saw the Ice Agent look up and decided to suggest to her she might consider treating customers as living, breathing, feeling human beings. I walked over to the ticket counter and asked if I could speak with her. She said, "If you can wait 20 minutes." What's with this 20 minute rule, huh? I asked the agent for her name. She told me but, because I have a hearing loss, her voice sounded muffled. I asked her to spell her name. Instead, she repeated her name 3 times and I finally heard "Maria." I expressed that I couldn't wait 20 minutes, so she told me to talk to the employee next to her, Wayne, her supervisor. And that is when I lost it. The tears, the snot, the...I know TMI!  Wayne (or was it Lee? It was Lee Wayland or Wayne Leeland...can't remember). Mr. Supervisor listened--well, let me restate. He acted as if he heard and understood what I was saying. He acted like I had a good idea about people treating each other with respect. However, after all was said, tears slowed down, and the mascara created a tic-tac-toe board on my cheeks, he shrugged his shoulders and said, "I'm sorry you feel that way. There's nothing I can do!"

American Airlines, NOW HEAR THIS: You have a serious problem with morale-employee and customer alike. Here's a little suggestion to you, Mr. management and Ms. employee: Please treat your customers with respect. Without us, your customers, you won't have a job. I guess that's one way to solve a problem with customer service, eh?